


Bucket Seats Weren't Meant For This

by Windturtle



Category: Motorcity
Genre: Anal Sex, Car Sex, M/M, post mission sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:43:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windturtle/pseuds/Windturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes they don’t go back right away.  Sometimes after the adrenaline pounding parts of the mission are over Mike just drives around to let off steam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucket Seats Weren't Meant For This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaughingStones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingStones/gifts).



Sometimes they don’t go back right away. Sometimes after the adrenaline pounding parts of the mission are over Mike just drives around to let off steam. They roar through the ruined parts of Motorcity until they reach one of the many dark underpasses and Mutt screeches to a halt.

“I don’t know how you can blow off steam with Chuck screaming in your ear,” Texas snorts over the link before it goes black as Mike switches the feed off. They sit and breathe for a moment before they move.

Chuck is too lanky to actually fit on Mike’s lap with his back to the steering wheel, but they always try it anyway. Sometimes they don’t even get their clothes off, frantically making out pressed into the single seat.

Usually though, they do lots more than just make out. Chuck’s knees hit Mike’s arms as he tries to slide at least one leg around the seat to make room. They’re packed together too close to really move. 

A lot of times they just press close, rubbing against each other, frantic and panting because there’s hardly any room for anything else and shirts are the easiest thing to get off when two people are jammed into the front seat. Sometimes though the stars align and they manage to get enough of their clothing off to go further.

“I think you screaming is the best part,” Mike laughs into Chuck’s ear.

Chuck shivers. “Unfair, Mikey,” he whines. 

It’s already too hot and they’re already pressed too close when Mike slides in and Chuck starts trembling, panting and talking so fast all his words run together in one long sentence that Mike can hardly understand.

“Ohgodohgodohgodmikemikemikemike.” He clings to Mike’s shoulders, breath hot and needy in Mike’s ear.

Mike groans, biting his lip to stay quiet but Chuck is already sucking on his lips, forcing his mouth open and his hips buck before he means to move. Chuck lets out a high-pitched moan and shivers all over in a way that makes Mike shiver too.

“Mikey, _move_!” he groans in Mike’s ear, biting on his neck.

Mike always wants to try and slow down when they do this. He wants to savor it and make it last but then Chuck does that and his hips don’t care. His hands clench around Chuck’s waist as his hips slam upwards, as much as they can in the tight space. Chuck hits the ceiling and he doesn’t even notice, just puts his hand above his head to brace and push back down. They’re bumping into each other, the steering wheel, the door, but neither of them care.

Mike can’t think straight with Chuck panting his name in his ear and begging him to move faster. It’s the only time Chuck wants him to go faster. Chuck is still talking in long, unpunctuated sentences that Mike doesn’t even register as words and Mike’s hips aren’t taking direction from his brain anymore which is good because he’s not really thinking. His whole body is trembling with the need for release and it takes up all the processing power his brain has. All he wants is this, all he wants is to feel Chuck coming, all he wants to feel is that sweet moment when everything goes white with pleasure.

He doesn’t know who comes first. When he comes he’s panting and too hot and they’re almost too close to breathe. All he can do is try to remember how to breathe as they’re wrapped around each other. He finally registers that Mutt’s horn has been going off for a long time now.

“Chuckles, you’re leaning on the horn,” he says with a little laugh.

“Fuck the horn,” Chuck mumbles into his shoulder.

“Chuckles,” Mike groans. “Watch the language.”

Chuck makes a noise and pushes forward, sending electric sparks through both of them. Mutt’s horn stops as they lean into each other, kissing lazily, still too hot and cramped. Mike shifts to pull out, finally realizing that he’s sweating. Chuck makes a contented noise that melts him and he wraps his arms around him instead of pushing him over to the passenger seat. There will be time to cool down on the drive back. Whenever they get to that.


End file.
